


Closet Jamboree

by candyflavordlies



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Closet Sex, F/M, Intimacy, Quiet Sex, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:59:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candyflavordlies/pseuds/candyflavordlies
Summary: There are several very important things happening at this time. The first is there are men trying to kill them. The second is that those men are currently in their hotel room. The third is that Illya Kuryakin and Gaby Teller are trapped in a closet barely big enough for one.





	Closet Jamboree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roadhymns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadhymns/gifts).



There are several very important things happening at this time. The first is there are men trying to kill them. The second is that those men are currently in their hotel room. The third is that Illya Kuryakin and Gaby Teller are trapped in a closet barely big enough for one. The hotel doubled as a safe house during the last two wars and this secret area is hidden behind the false back of the closet in Illya's room. He'd found it when he'd done his earlier sweep. Lucky them because here they are, pressed against each other in an impossibly small box. 

There's a cut out in the very back of this room, a little nook that would have been large enough to sleep for anyone else, but is barely a cramped seat for Illya's large frame. 

Gaby is struggling with an entirely different aspect of this as she tries to maintain some semblance of professionalism while standing back to chest with a shirtless Russian who very well may be a lost wonder of the world.

Illya, of course, is always the most respectful and behaved of the trio, which is a bit of a disappointment because Gaby can think of hundreds of things to do if he ever gets up the courage to step out of line.

The arm around her waist pulls her closer as the floor outside the closet creaks. She stumbles into his lap.

Instinctively, she grabs his forearm. Gaby fights the blush rushing to her cheeks. She can feel every movement of his muscles, every change in position, no matter how small, and something about that is unbearable. With every breath, every rise of his body and hers, Gaby slips further away from the spy she's supposed to be and closer to the woman she is.

Illya, for his part, is perfectly content to die in this moment. Preferably from something more pleasurable than being murdered by three, no four (one is very light-footed) - hired thugs. 

Gabriella is delicate and distracting, fragrant like meadows in the middle of summer, warm and flushed - so many thoughts, too many, fight to push their way forward. Word after word tumbling over itself in his mind, trying to properly categorize the reasons he is willing to risk his life and career just to find out what it would feel like to place one kiss, there, at the base of her neck.

Soon, he is not worried about the threat outside their door. No, now he is concentrating almost entirely on limiting contact of their lower halves, and willing the blood away from his most treacherous part. His hands rest firmly on her waist and he is reminded of her, passed out on top of him, back when he barely knew her. Even then, he knew she would be the one to break him.

They have been waiting - for the threats and the world and the interruptions to end but it's been months and nothing has changed. They, he, could end up waiting his whole life to kiss her and he's suddenly tired of waiting and of letting everyone else run his life.

Illya pulls Gaby closer to him, buries his face in her hair to muffle what little sound he makes and settles her firmly in his lap.

He is pleasantly surprised to here an answering moan from her. She, too, is struggling to remain quiet. Something about that tugs at him, dares him to do it again, make her breathe his name. 

He slides his hand across the soft plane of her stomach, stopping when the tips of his fingers reach the curve of her breast.

Illya places his lips against her neck. "We have been here before."

"Nonsense. I would remember this." She squirms closer because this might be her only chance, because it feels like fate and the universe are on her side for once.

Gaby feels his sharp gasp and the hardness where it meets her backside. His hands tremble as he tries to get a handle on his emotions.

"Breathe, Illya."

He does. He takes a deep breath and his lungs are filled with Gaby and sunlight, the smell of warm wood and the dampness hanging in the air from his shower. 

"This is dangerous, Gaby.” 

She scoffs. 

"Of course it is. Now shut up." She laces her fingers with his and guides their entwined hands to her breast. She reaches behind her to bury her other hand in his hair. 

She is barely dressed in her slip and underwear and nothing else, and it is still too much. She wants to be naked and touching every inch of him, feeling all of the places she has dreamed about over these last few months. She doesn't, however, want to end up running for her life in nothing, so she'll have to settle for this whatever it...her inner ramblings come to an abrupt stop when she feels Illya's hand on her thigh.

She has fantasized about this so many times. Just the thought of him touching her, knowing the strength in those hands and knowing that he is always soft, always so gentle with her and she wants it all. She wants to come a thousand times with his hands wrapped around her, buried deep inside her, tangled in her hair.

The hotel room is quiet; empty as far as they can tell.

"May I?" He gives her thigh a light squeeze. Until now, she had no idea that was a turn on for her. Her stomach clenches and her body tenses in all the right ways and the gasp that escapes her is as much of an answer as she can give. Gaby leans into him, resting her full weight on his cock trapped between them, and nods her head frantically.

Illya's hand travels upward and her body pulses with need. She's flushed with it and the only thing keeping her sane is the real possibility that there are assasins wandering around their hotel. Still, that thought is fairly far away and frankly irrelevant in the grand scheme of getting off.

As if he can sense her thoughts, one of Illya's thumbs brushes across her nipple and sends a shiver down her spine. He does it again, and again until she's rocking into him him.

"Yes, please!" Gaby hisses. She doesn't care if they get caught, so as long as he stops teasing. The hand on her thigh hasn't moved, which is a problem she decides to rectify. 

Gripping his wrist, Gaby guides him, up, up, slowly up, until his fingers touch warm, wet flesh and he's finally where she needs him to be. She stays still, letting him take a moment to adjust or change his mind or to say anything. That all goes out the window when the tip of his finger slides between her lips, dips further back and then returns to circle her clit.

She shudders violently. Illya repeats the motion and the sound that Gaby lets out is guttural. There is nothing in all the universe that can possibly feel as good as this does. 

He continues, adding pressure and expanding his movements so that he’s stimulating more and more of her. 

The sharp ripples of pleasure are echoing outwards until her legs begin to tremble and her knees give out. Gaby can’t help it, she’s whimpering and begging and she’s given up on pretending she’s going to do anything but come for him any second.

Ilya’s hand leaves her breast to cover her mouth.

“Shh.” Although she’s sure he means well, this has the opposite reaction because Gaby is discovering kink after kink with this man. His voice is deep, heavy, and resonates through her and joins the dozen other sensations running havoc within her. 

She wraps her tongue around his thumb and sucks it into her mouth. His hands falters and he muffles his groan in her hair.

All that is left is urgency; at any other time, Gaby would have climbed into his lap and impaled herself on him in an instant. That time is gone. Now, she needs to come soon. Her hips buck frantically as she desperately chases ecstasy. She’s growing frustrated and nearly cries when he stops.

“Trust me.” Illya’s voice is raspy and strained but measured, in control in ways she will never master. 

She releases his thumb to nod and whisper, "Always.”

He begins again, slow but firm and this is something different. This is something fucking beautiful. He alternates between dipping two of those gloriously long fingers inside of her while his thumb presses and flicks her clit. She’s entranced - her body is his to manipulate and her mind has gone blank. The only things left are his fingers and his mouth whispering soft encouragements in the space between her neck and her shoulder and then there is a hand on her breast, squeezing just enough and fuck, fuck, fuck…

“Oh Gott, bitte! Bitte! Pozhaluysta!” Gaby doesn’t care that she’s babbling or begging or anything. It takes three, four more strokes and she’s there, flying off a cliff and into jeweled sunlight and floating in the universe. She can’t breathe or think or see. It’s wave after wave after crushing wave of complete pleasure like she’s never experienced on her own, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever come back down.

When she finally regains her senses, Illya's arms are wrapped around her. He places light kisses across her collarbone and behind her ear. She turns toward him, climbing into his lap and pulling him to her so that she can kiss him like she should have done months ago. 

After a minute, she lets him breathe, but only because she's running out of air too. She rests her forehead against his.

“We are going to kill these men and then I am going to have my way with you for many hours.”

If there was ever a smile made entirely of sex, it is definitely the one that spreads across Illya’s face.

“Yes."


End file.
